Today I wanted to cut my wrists. Today my wrists burned so badly and all I wanted to do was take a blade to my wrists ripping a hole into my skin to relieve the tightness I feel…to let my skin breathe. Sometimes I feel like it doesn’t matter what kind of happiness I find because it always seems fleeting. It’s like I can’t escape from the feeling of dread I feel. The feeling of not being accepted or the fear of being myself even when others don’t approve. I feel like I’ll try to open myself up and become vulnerable and it’s just not enough or it’s too much for people so I have to close back up and it is the worse feeling in the world.  Because I just want to accept myself and be myself and stop being afraid…but I’m scared to death. Any time I get a little comfortable, something or someone else’s words set me back and I self sabotage. I self sabotage and feel myself crumble. I feel myself crumble and dissipate into the nothingness of depression. It feels like I’m trapped inside this lonely void..

I know things get better. I know it’s not always like this because I feel genuine happiness and I am lucky enough to have genuine love. But the love I have for myself is lacking and I am suffering because of it. I know I shouldn’t care about what other people think, because they don’t matter. But sometimes these heavy thoughts weigh me down and suffocate me to no end. I need to stay positive and remind myself who I am. I can’t let myself get sucked into that void of darkness because if I do, I don’t know how long it’ll have a hold on me. I don’t know how many moments it’ll steal from me, how much time it’ll rob from me. Every single moment and energy of my time is precious and I can’t let these negative thoughts win. I am enough and I’ll have to keep telling myself until I get it engraved into my mind. 

Dear me,

This letter is overdue. I’ve always meant to write a letter to myself, but I was always afraid of reopening old wounds and the psychological impact it would have on me. But I deserve this. So here I go…

You have gone through so much in your life. Sometimes you think about how much damage you’ve gone through and write it off by saying that you deserved it or at least it wasn’t worse than what it was. But that is not true. Every trauma is still trauma even if it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Everyone has their own battles and believe me you had a lot. I want to start off by reminding you that you didn’t deserve any of it. There was nothing you did that could’ve made it okay for any of those horrible things being done to you. You were so young when it all started. There was a lot of pressure on you to not make mistakes.. Anytime anyone got angry you would hide into your dark space and close off. You were always so afraid of what people thought of you and blamed yourself for everything. You hated that you were annoying, weird, and curious. You never felt like you were good enough and I’m sorry. You used to look in the mirror as a kid, comb your hair, and tell yourself that you looked awesome. How quickly that changed when you would go to school and be teased for your lisp, individuality, the fact that you grew up faster than the other girls physically. None of that was your fault. You were so afraid to be yourself. I’m sorry because you were always good enough. There was nothing wrong with being yourself. Because you are unique and weird and that’s okay.

In the eighth grade you started harming yourself because you felt like everyone would leave you eventually because of your flaws and how weird and annoying you were. You were never annoying, you just cared so much about people and they didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t your fault. You were weird, but there was nothing wrong with that because that’s who you are. Who I am. It’s true that a lot of people leave your life, but the people who love you will always stay no matter what. People come and go in this life, but everything changes and there was nothing you did that drove them away. You continued to cut yourself because you believed that you deserved the pain. You punished yourself for not being good enough and always embarrassing yourself. Your desire to be loved and to have someone pay attention to you in a positive way was deep. You looked for love everywhere and anywhere in a person. Even when most times it was the wrong person. You found attention in someone who mentally and sexually abused you. But you were just glad someone wanted you around even if all he did was tear you down and manipulate you and your feelings. I wish I could’ve loved you more than I did.

You deserved so much genuine love and not the fake love or attention you eagerly sought out. And when you finally got the love you deserved from someone so sweet it didn’t last long. You felt like he was going to end up leaving you anyway. So you ruined the one good thing you had.. You believed anyone who said they loved you. I wish I could tell you who really did and that you should love yourself more. You are such a beautiful person inside and out. You care so much for people who don’t feel the same. You used to pray to God at night and ask him to forgive Satan for being evil because he was misguided and needed to be loved too. That little girl who loved herself as much as everyone else. I wish you didn’t lose sight of that. Later on your heart got so broken and you took it out on anyone within reach and when they left, you weren’t surprised and felt so bitter towards anyone who claimed to be your friend. You tried to bounce back and clung onto the nearest good looking guy you could find to forget about your previous mistakes and distract you from your pain.

That distraction became someone you had to take care of who would in turn abuse you physically, sexually, and verbally. You felt so low that you just let him do it, because who else were you going to be with? You were more afraid to be alone. You felt some truth in his words more than half the time. You just stuck with him and when he cheated on you, you weren’t even surprised. You weren’t even hurt. All you wanted was someone to love you even if it wasn’t real. After that you met a man who convinced you that you deserved better and when you started to believe him, he tricked you and ended up taking advantage of you too. You were so desperate to not have anyone else leave you, and when he left, you just felt broken even further. You felt numb to the world and to everyone else. You started college and went off the rails. You drank, smoke, and did stupid reckless things. It wasn’t until you came home one day and saw the worried look on your mother’s face that you decided to change. Because someone did love and care for you always even when you didn’t. So you dropped everyone and decided to change for her and for yourself. Slowly you got better. But even now you still believe that sometimes you are not good enough. You started to believe that maybe you weren’t good enough because everyone doubted you. Your whole life you would push yourself and work extra hard to prove everyone who underestimated you that you were worth it. Even when you, yourself didn’t believe you were worth it. But you were always worth it. The only person you needed to prove, was yourself. Even now you think you annoy people with your friendship and that you have to compensate by giving them presents and always spreading yourself thin for them. You feel ugly and fat from giving birth twice to two beautiful boys. You take hits on yourself every day. You’ve been through so much and you’re a good person even through your panic attacks, lapse of judgement, loss of control, and bad days. You’re always trying to help other people, be there for anyone because you know what it’s like to feel alone, to want to give up, and you don’t want anyone else to feel that way. You give so much to everyone else and don’t replace what they took. You don’t give anything to yourself because you don’t want to be selfish.

You are anything but selfish. You’re always baking things for other people, giving clothes away, checking up on everyone else. You try so hard to be the best you can be and when you fall short you can’t even give yourself a break. Breathe. Relax. Just be. Love yourself. Embrace the things that you have done and stop beating yourself up for falling short, for not being as skinny as you want, for not going all out on your looks all the time. You are beautiful. You are a good mom, you put your kids first always, you put yourself in front of danger to protect your kids, you sacrifice yourself constantly. Your kids love you, your husband loves you, your family loves you, when will you love you? You deserve the love that you give so much of to everyone else. You are tired and try hard everyday. Just exist and do what you can. Be nice to yourself. Please. Because at the end of the day you are always there for yourself, you are in charge of everyone, but especially of you. And I know you wouldn’t treat anyone the way you treat yourself now. So stop. You are enough. You are loved. And you are important. You need to see that. I love you. Keep going. You got this.

Sara

Theodore Roosevelt was the one who cleverly stated, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” I think about that a lot especially now being a young adult. Last December I went to my 5 year high school reunion. Bad idea right? Kind of. It was nice to see some of my classmates and I was happy for them that they seemed to excel in life, but it really made me feel like I haven’t accomplished anything. I know I shouldn’t compare myself to them, they are completely different from me and on a different level than I am. They were either successful in their ever growing careers whereas I am still a waitress at a steakhouse. Or they were almost done obtaining their Master’s Degree where I have four full semesters until I complete my Bachelor’s degree. Or maybe they just had their own business or what not, one of my classmates married a rich doctor and had a house and a beach house. Wow! All so amazing things while I am still living in an apartment. I have never felt so behind in my life. I have not accomplished anything that I had wanted to yet and I felt all this pressure from seeing how far behind I was from them. It’s hard because it really made me take a closer look at myself. This blog that I am so proud of and write in is still private except to random people who may find this site or anyone I have shared it with so far. I still haven’t finished a book I started three years ago and could have finished a long while ago. I am so afraid of finishing it and it isn’t good enough, or maybe no one will buy it. Who knows? But if I don’t finish it and go through with publishing then I will never know if it sinks or floats. I started to beat myself up about it. But then after coming home I decided to think of things that I have done already and what I am doing to achieve my goals. I have successfully written around 43 blog posts, I have finished my Associates Degree and graduated a week AFTER just popping out a big baby! I got married to my husband at 21 years of age, had a wonderful active son, and now I am pregnant with another boy. I am happy and I still have a lot of work to do before I achieve my degree and or the career of my choice. But I am doing just fine. I may not enjoy my job right now, and it may not pay as much. But I am doing the best that I can and that is enough. I am enough. I work hard at everything I do. I am a good wife, mother, student, writer, worker, and that is enough. I am enough. I am happy for my classmates. I am happy myself. I will get to where I am going in time, because there is no expiration date to success. I shouldn’t feel bad about not having a house yet, not having the career of my dreams yet, not having my Master’s Degree yet, because with hard work and determination those things will come in time. And right now all I can do is my best and that is good enough.

I just want to clear something up that has been bothering me for some time. Whenever sexual assault victims come out and share their story with others, they are praised for being stronger because of their trauma. It sends kind of a mixed message. I don’t speak for all the victims, but as you all may know from reading my past blogs, that I was a victim. Sexual assault victims are stronger because of who we are, we are stronger because we took the steps or are taking the steps to become ourselves again. We can never become who we were because we have faced adversity and came out the end of it still breathing and stronger than ever. But when we say that we are stronger because of our trauma it feels like we are thanking our assaulter for causing our trauma and making us stronger. That is not it at all. I would have loved to not gone through the trauma that I have. My assaulter did NOT make me stronger, the trauma that they caused ME did not help me in anyway. They took pieces of me and I had to rebuild those pieces again MYSELF. I am the one who became stronger, not because of my trauma, but because of who I am. I took the time to get better, I had to learn to be patient with myself, to not be afraid, and to love myself again without blaming myself for what happened to me. It took me six years to forgive someone that hurt me, violated me, manipulated me for years, and broke my trust. Sometimes it takes people a lot longer and that is okay! My assaulter took away pieces of me and I had a choice. Sit there and let him have control of me- control of my fear, of my actions, of my anger, of my sense of security- for the rest of my life or to take the steps necessary to begin to heal and rebuild those pieces. My therapist told me that there are three types of people; victims, survivors, and thrivers. I am a thriver. I share my story now, because I want other people like me to know that they are not alone in any way. That it is not their fault and to take ALL the time you need to let out any emotions you have and to heal as long as possible. I have come a long way from where I was, but I do not dwell in that part of the past anymore and it is nice to feel that weight lift off my chest. I can breathe easier knowing that I am strong. I will not be underestimated, and it is because of who I am not in spite of what happened. And I want that for everyone else who feels just like I did, broken, lost, and alone. I want the very best for everyone, you are strong because of who you are, not your trauma.

I lay awake at night and think. I lie awake at night and I remember. I remember the lies you spun, my strings you pulled, and everything I held you stripped away. I was good. I was innocent. I felt whole.

And in a matter of weeks, you came back into my life and took that all away. I was a marionette and you were my puppet master. Only my strings weren’t attached to a board just anyone could control, they were attached to your fingers. You willed me to dance, and I danced. You willed me to speak and I spoke. You held me down and did your worst against my screams, against my protest, against my attempts to run away.

You pulled the strings. You owned me. I followed commands because I was scared. But you said I followed commands because I loved. I loved you and your lies. But your voice was embedded in my brain like I wasn’t even safe inside my own head. Your lies convinced me and muddied the truth. I never loved you. But I wasn’t sure what was true and what wasn’t.

All I knew was your command, your threats, and that sickening laugh of yours that echoed in my head. I was just a plaything to you. Nothing more. I was a blanket and you tore every fabric, every thread you could so that I was barely hanging on. 

And when you were done, you let me float into the nothingness. I floated and scrambled to hold onto anything left I had. But even the pieces that remained were not enough. So I tied myself into a knot, holding onto the hurt and spiraled out of control. While you walked away whole. You walked away whole with pieces of me in your back pocket. 

So after years of mending what you broke, I could be whole again. But even now, I see you and I envy the fact that you walked away without a scratch. You have no repercussions, if you have guilt it will never haunt you as much as what you did haunts me. It will never screw you up like you did me. It will never make you feel the way it did me. And there is no apology in the world that could fix the way you broke me. Even when all is forgiven, I want nothing more than to know at night you can’t sleep because of what you took and did to me…then I would know for sure, you threw my strings away.

I wonder if anyone knows or is even the least bit curious as to why the website and my name is Break Down My Door. Well not my actual name. I wanted something to stand out, something different, and something that defined me. When I thought of this, it was perfect. Break Down My Door defines me, because I am breaking down my walls to speak about the heavy things that weigh on my shoulders. The hard things, the bad things, my opinions, and my confessions. A lot of people think that I am a shy person. I am not. I have a lot to say. I have so much to say. But I am afraid of being judged or being treated differently, and I wish I wasn’t. So here I am coming out to all of you with an open heart. These are the things that weigh me down, when I write the words fly off my fingertips and into the air. Everything is making sense and I am not ashamed to write it all out.

Break Down My Door defines me because any time I have ever had a panic attack, anxiety, or a mental breakdown of tears, I have always hidden in the bathroom. I would hide in the bathroom, lock the door, fall apart, I used to harm myself in there as well, and then I would wipe the tears and gather myself together like nothing ever happened. Far too many times have I wished that someone would break down the door and stop me from being alone, from harming myself, and from isolating myself. It’s okay to break down. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay. I don’t need anyone to be my hero anymore. I am my own hero, but I still need love and support. I get that from my close friends and family. So here I am sharing the burdens of my heart to you. If you feel the same way about any of my posts I just want to say I am here for you. I am sharing my burdens and my pain in the hopes that if you can relate, that you know that you are not alone. That I want you to break down your own door and let people in. Let people help you, let me help you, don’t give up. It’s okay not to be okay.

As I write this I have a frog stuck in my throat. Not literally, figuratively. Like I am choking on my tears and trying to push it down. I don’t want to cry, but it’s too late. I just finished working out. There have been many times that I have tried diets, new fad pills like (It Works, Thrive, etc), and exercising to lose weight. I will keep up with it for a solid two weeks and push myself until I can no longer do it. I get so discouraged and give up. I think to myself, “What am I really accomplishing? I haven’t seen any sort of change. I’ll never lose this weight.” I am the biggest bully and harshest critic when it comes to myself. Working out and dieting is SO hard. Maybe not for health nuts, and to them I am happy. They don’t have to stare and hate their naked bodies in the mirror or be afraid to look at the scale when they weigh theirselves. I envy them. Since having a baby, it has been so hard to keep up with exercising or even dieting at all. My life is busy with Church, Work, Being a Mom, and a Wife. I capitalize those things, because those things are important to me. I know, I know those are busy things to do and to be. You are talking to someone who likes to stretch herself to thin and then daydream about the days where I could be lazy and do absolutely nothing, and have no one expect anything from me.

I’m getting a little off track. The fact is there is always time to do what you want changed. A lot of people tell me that they will watch TV, while doing laundry, and when a commercial comes on they do squats. There is time. Not every second of your life is full. I always find time to pray, even at my busiest. So I decided that I am tired of hating myself, putting myself down about my weight, I can change my weight. Only me. Not some fad pill. There is no easy way to lose weight. There is no cheating, only dedication and perseverence. To anyone who wants to give up exercising or dieting because it is too hard, I am with you. But you will never see results if you give up. And I know that, but I have to keep reminding myself. Right now I just finished watching and working out to a YouTube video Tabata for beginners. Wow does it give you a work out! I am on day three of dieting and working out. I am so sore and so tired. And I feel like I could be doing so much more. I am beating myself up constantly! I am cursing myself for getting so tired so quickly, for hating myself that my stomach is smacking against my thighs, and that my breathing is so loud. Here comes the tears again…

This is hard, but it’s possible. If you are unhappy about something, you have the power to change it. It’s a long journey and no short process at all. But it is worth it. You might think that I am crazy or that I am being a hypocrite for saying that when I want to give up and I am crying. But it is worth it. It is better for your body and for your mind to be healthy. Because of my depression and anxiety it is hard for me to focus. But after exercising I have such a clear head and it pushes me to choose healthier options of food to put into my body. One day I will love my body. I’m not saying I will only love it when I am skinny, I am saying I will love it because I will start to feel like myself again. I want to make healthier decisions, I want to think clearer, I want to try on clothes without crying, and beating myself up. I know my body has done some amazing things for me. My body has kept me alive, it has fought off illnesses, helped me achieve things when I used to do competitions, and it helped me home a beautiful baby boy for 9 months. I am grateful to my body for those things. But now I have to pay it back and be gentle with myself. This is going to be a long journey of sweat, tears, and discouragement. But I can’t give up now, and neither should you. So persevere and carry on my friends!

Today my mother asked me what I missed about my life before my son. It might seem like a harsh question, but she was being genuine. Before I reveal my answers to her question let me remind everyone; everything changes when you become a mother. You have to take your baby with you everywhere, you have to keep track of how much he/she eats, poops, and pees. There’s a lot to take note of too, like what color was his/her poop, what kind of texture it looked like. Those things just seem gross and before now, I used to think that was nuts. When I was pregnant I heard my mom friends talk about their infant’s poop incessantly. All I could think was, “Gross! Is this my life now? Am I going to be or supposed to be obsessed with the color and texture of my child’s poop?”  Oh! And don’t forget if you want to go out for drinks or go to work or school, you need a sitter! 

I miss leaving the house whenever I wanted alone without having my child’s nap schedule get in the way of me leaving. Not changing diapers, or wearing shirts that easily access my breasts so that I could pull those out and breastfeed, I miss not worrying about every single little thing or germ that could infect my child, sleeping in as long as I want to, I miss going to the grocery store and being in and out. And sometimes I just miss the me I used to be. 

But do you know what? I wouldn’t trade being a mother of my son for the world. Because from the moment I heard his heartbeat my heart knew that I needed him. From the moment I held him in my arms after eighteen hours of labor and twenty six minutes of pushing out a nine pound five ounce baby, love and content was overflowing my heart. I had so much love to give this chunky baby. I’ve always been decently happy. I had a husband whom I love very much and I was going to have a baby. And that baby was here and for the first time in my life, this baby made me feel so light and I felt like I had everything. I felt God’s love for me and this tiny human and it was such a powerful blessing to me. Every single hardship I’ve ever faced, trial I’ve overcome, all of it, everything was suddenly worth it because I had the gift of God in my arms. He gave my life a new purpose. 

Being a mother is hard. It is the hardest thing I have ever had to do, but it’s worth it. It’s worth it because even though I have hard days, the good days outshine them all. My heart glows when my child smiles at me, kisses me, and calls me mama. There are so many times where I cry and wonder if I’m doing anything right. Times where when my son has accidentally fallen or gotten hurt I take it so hard on myself. I cry harder than he does, I apologize to him incessantly, knowing he doesn’t understand my sorrow or need for him to understand. The ’mom guilt’ is too much sometimes. But when my son gets back up and laughs and comes up to me and wants only me to hold him, it gives me so much joy and strength. It reminds me that no matter how many times I fall, all I need to do is get back up and try again. My son taught me that. He is so little and full of life. He doesn’t know a lot about the world around him yet, but he teaches me something every day. And it overshadows anything I’ve ever missed from before I was a mom.

There are times that I stray from God. I’m not perfect. But when I look at my son’s face and think about what a miracle he is, what a blessing he is to be in my life, it reminds me of God’s love. My love as a mother is powerful for my son, but it’s nothing compared to God’s. In the spirit of Thanksgiving coming up, I am thankful for my savior, my husband, my son, but most of all being a mother. 

Being a mother is so hard. Not only is it hard in general, but it is especially hard when you have depression. I take my postpartum depression meds like I’m supposed to, but even then; I still get buried in depression. And most times I don’t even see it coming. Sometimes when it’s near the end of the year or when it’s raining outside, I’ll usually feel sluggish and sad. Those are the few times I know I’m going to have a bad day. But for the first two weeks of this month I was great! I was a good house-wife, a good mom, a patient person, and I didn’t think much of the loneliness I felt. And all of a sudden BAM! Everything unfolds!

My dream job isn’t an option at this time, a back up job isn’t possible either, I’m letting my anxiety get the best of me, I am angry and tired ALL THE TIME, and I have no more patience for my screaming almost one year old. I feel the weight of the depression crushing down on me. And it’s heavy and I don’t even want to attempt to lift it off, but I know I should. Everything is just too much and exhausting. I’m taking out all my anger and frustration out on myself, my husband, and my friends that are supposed to be there for me. But how can they be here for me if I don’t tell them how I’m feeling? I wish they’d check up on me because I’ve been distant. But how would they even know? They aren’t mind readers. We are all adults and have our own lives to live. We are busy and worry about our friends, but don’t always have time to check up on them like we would like. That’s no one’s fault and I know that. But I still want to blame someone other than myself. I feel angry especially, because at times I feel like I am always checking up on everyone and making sure that they are okay. But when it’s my turn to feel the weight of the world on my shoulder, no one is there. (Excluding my husband). 

These are irrational feelings. I know my friends love and care for me, but they’re busy. If I call out to them, I know that they will make time for me and try their best to reassure me that I am loved and that I will be okay. But sometimes feeling like this is hard. You feel so low and empty and you want to vent to someone, but at the same time you want to completely isolate yourself from everyone and just disappear. I used to be able to close myself off completely. To avoid any and all contact with people. To lay in bed and feel the tears slide off my face while I stare at the wall expressionless. I would wait until nighttime to ugly cry and hyperventilate into my pillow, suffocating myself so I wouldn’t make noise and wake anyone else up. 

I can’t do that anymore. I’m responsible for a miniature version of me. I want to be strong for the both of us. I don’t want my son to ever see me cry or ever see me succumb to my depression. I don’t want to be that mom that lies motionless in bed while her children take care of her. I don’t want my children to take care of themselves because I can’t. I would feel as if I failed as a mom. I never want that to happen. I’m not perfect and depression happens and it doesn’t help especially if you have postpartum depression. It’s incredibly hard not to give into it. But I will keep fighting for myself and for my son. I will not succumb to it. I can be better.

Have you ever cried for your past self? I’m talking about the past you, when you were naive and made mistake after mistake. All I can think sometimes is, Why? How could I trust someone who obviously had no intention of doing any good to me? How could I let a mistake get so far? I was thinking about this the other day. When I was toward the end of my abusive relationship with my ex, I met someone. He was a customer where I worked. He told my friend that I was cute. He would come in and tell me that the only reason he came in was to make me smile and possibly make my day. Corny right? He was handsome and older, and just seemed so sweet and caring. Don’t get me wrong, he was caring. But it wasn’t until later on that I found out that I was never going to get anywhere with him. He kept coming in and we would talk, he would flirt, and of course I would laugh.

He commended me for being brave and leaving a relationship that made me miserable, even though it was hard to. He had a million dollar smile, all he would do is show his teeth and entrap you in his charisma. He would always listen and joke and make me feel so much more than I was. And it was so nice! It was amazing to feel like that! Especially after escaping a toxic relationship where my ex would tell me that no one could ever want me. When I was constantly insulted and eventually believed the lies he spoke to me. This guy was so refreshing to talk to and hang out with. But it was a mistake. I was vulnerable. I don’t think he ever meant to cause me harm, but he did. He came from nowhere and I was stuck on him. I wasn’t in love with him, but I was willing to try anything to make him happy, to keep him there with me. I just wanted to hold onto that feeling of pure bliss when he made me feel special and listened to me speak with such enthusiasm! I was even willing to look past our age difference which was 11 years by the way. He led me on and we went on a few dates. It wasn’t until the last time that we had hung out that things escalated.

We had finally kissed and then everything excelerated faster than I wanted it to. I was so happy, but confused and I just wanted him to stay. I just wanted the happiness to stay. We didn’t have to be together, but I wanted to be around him. But that night after we were done hanging out he looked at me with regret and sadness. That’s when I knew that this was the last time he’d be around. It was like he knew this was going to happen. But all I wanted to know was why? He was so sweet, fun, and seemed like such a nice guy, and then he just left. Why did I feel like I did something wrong? But I think that I always knew that he’d leave eventually. I was just fun for him, nothing serious. This was fun for me too, but I at least wanted a friendship. But I couldn’t have that. I can remember his eyes when he looked at me. He looked at me like “she’s still a lost little girl and maybe this was a mistake”. He kissed my forehead and I never heard from him again. 

I cry for a lot of things that I did that were stupid. That guy is a dick for leaving me like that, but I’m glad that we had the time we did. I needed someone to boost my confidence and make me feel special even if it was for just a short while. I was a lost little girl and I let him come in and take what he wanted. I can’t believe I let things escalate and that I was more disappointed than I was mad when he just left. But it is true what they say, “you live and you learn”. And I did learn because, I never let that mistake happen twice.